


Sleep, Perchance to Dream

by MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy



Series: Friday Smutatucular [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Fever Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7877185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy/pseuds/MercurialBianca_TheHonorableMrsMcCarthy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy pseudo dream sex for a Friday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep, Perchance to Dream

His head was spinning.

His body was tossing and turning, unable to find comfort.

Flashes of conversation came back to him. 

_ What other men?  _

_ Well, the parade. The constant parade of French artists, of fugitive anarchists, of, of, of Russian clairvoyants. The tango dancers, and... and men who... men who wear damned cravats! _   
Swirls of color sometimes settled into recognizable images like the way she looked pressed against her parlour doors. She’d looked relieved and happy to see him.

He’d been drinking. He hadn’t drank like that since the Armistice Day.

He heard a groan, it was probably his own.

_ Shall I fetch a pair of pajamas, Miss? _

_ That’s a splendid idea Mr. Butler. He’ll be far more comfortable that way. _

_ Phryne, you don’t need me for anything else do you? _

_ No Father, you’ve done quite enough for one night. _

_ Darling girl, I did help him up the stairs, despite my back. _

_ Good. Night. Father. _

Her lips, her beautiful ruby lips. He could almost taste them. They were close to his, he could practically feel them.

Her lashes, fluttering against his neck were making him dizzy.

Her hands were loosening his tie.

He could swear he felt the weight of her hands at his chest.

And her perfume was everywhere and it wasn’t just the one from a bottle.

Braces unfastening, button flaps opening, shoes pulled off, fabric tugging, air on his feet. 

That moan was definitely his. But was that a sigh? There was a heat pressed against his ear. He was sure of it. 

_ I can’t wait to have you watch me do this, Jack. _

Throat clearing. 

_ Shall I, Miss? _

_ Yes, Mr. B. I suspect that would be his preference tonight. _

Strong, deft hands. Minimal, efficient movements this time. Arms up, then down. Rolled one way, and then the other. Silk against his skin. Cool, soft silk.

Perfume lingering or perhaps not too far away.

_ If that’s all, Miss? _

_ Yes, good night Mr. B, you are an angel incarnate. _

_ Good night, Miss. _

More warmth against his ear, fingers in his hair. This, he remembers long after he awakens. And for several nights afterward.

_ No tonight dear Jack, but soon. _


End file.
